


What was the Pony Express?

by Elementhyde



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Brothers, Pre-Canon, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25702966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elementhyde/pseuds/Elementhyde
Summary: A Young John and Arthur find themselves on the run from some locals, held up in a cabin the brother banter and Arthur tells John a bit about the Pony Express. This was a prompt from Yeehawgust 2020, Day 3, Pony Express
Relationships: John Marston & Arthur Morgan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	What was the Pony Express?

Arthur kicked the door of the cabin open, the musty, stale air rushing out from the force. This would have to do, it would keep them hidden until the law had called off their search.

_ God damn John can’t keep his mouth closed for five minutes. _

“Get rid of those horses and get your ass inside!” Arthur growled and disappeared into the house.

John scowled, giving the scraggly bay and piebald mares a slap sending them off into the trees. He trudged into the house slamming the door behind him.

“It weren’t my fault Arthur.” John started and Arthur put up a hand to stop him.

“You can’t fly off the handle any time someone calls you  _ boy _ .” Arthur hissed out the final word. “It’s gonna get you killed! You can’t be--”

“So hot headed?” John cut him off. “That’s rich, comin’ from you!” He rolled his eyes at Arthur’s scowl.

Arthur pulled the chair out from the small table, kicking up dust, the swirls dancing in the sunlight coming through the grimy windows. He dropped heavily into the chair, tossing his satchel onto the table. He sighed heavily putting his head in his hands.

“John, you know what I mean. You’re seventeen, you want to be treated like an adult, you gotta act like one.”

John didn’t respond. He turned and looked around the room. Staring at the dusty pictures of middle age men stoically staring back at him. He slid open the cabinet drawer, glancing inside, a bar of chocolate sat in the drawer. He pocketed it before closing the drawer and turning back to face Arthur.

“What the hell is this place anyhow?” He kicked an old can on the floor.

“I don’t know, John. It was the first place I found that looked like a place we could hide out. So shut the hell up so they don’t come lookin in here.” Arthur mumbled, his head still cradled in his hands.

John grumbled and moved through the rest of the cabin, dropping himself onto the old mattress. He exhaled loudly and put his hands behind his head, tipping his hat down over his eyes.

Arthur sat back up, glancing over at John on the bed, he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. He reached into his satchel and pulled out his journal. The worn cover felt soft on his hands and the binding barely holding on. He would have to get a new one soon, he thought, flipping to one of the few remaining pages.

_ John and I got into in that town and ended up havin’ to lay low in some old abandoned hunting cabin south of the town. Damn John and his temper! He wants so badly to be treated like an adult, but lashes out like a child havin’ a tantrum. _

_ We will stay here the night and figure out our next move from there.  _

_ For such a scrawny kid he sure does have a big mouth. _

He sketched John laying on the bed before closing the journal and pushing back from the table, moving to the small wardrobe on the far side of the room. He opened the door and pulled a heavy sweater from the shelf, tucking it under his arm. It was going to be a cold night, colder still without a fire and Arthur wasn’t going to deal with John’s complaining about the cold.

He closed the wardrobe and turned back toward the cabin, stopping as he caught John’s eyes on him.

“What you need that for, you ain’t ever cold.” He eyed the sweater tucked under Arthur’s arm.

“It’s gonna be cold tonight in here, and dark too without the fire. I don’t want to hear no complainin’ either.” He threw the sweater at John.

“I ain’t gonna.” John said, pulling the sweater off his chest and sitting up. “Why we gotta stay here all night anyhow, surely they aren’t gonna search all night. We could leave after sundown.”

“Ain’t worth the risk.”

John’s lips pursed tightly. He pulled open the end table drawer, pulling a stack of papers from the drawer. He flipped through them, slowly discarding them onto the floor.

“John, c’mon. Don’t throw it on the floor.” Arthur admonished.

“So kickin’ the door in is fine, but throwin’ paper on the floor is a problem?” He dropped a few more. 

“Hey Arthur, what’s the  _ Pony Express _ ?” He held a small envelope up.

“It was a service that transported mail back before the trains made things faster. Why?” He crossed the room and took the envelope from John.

“Just curious, ain’t never heard of them.”

“You’d have been the perfect candidate for them, according to those old ads I used to see posted back in San Francisco.” He flipped the letter over in his hand, pulling the paper from the envelope.

John knit his brow. “Huh?”

“They were always lookin’ for young, light men who weren’t afraid to risk death. You tick all them boxes.” He chuckled as he scanned over the letter.

“Shut up!” John fumed.

“Settle down, I’m just messin’ with you kid.” Arthur returned the letter to the envelope and handed it back to John.

“I told you. I  **ain’t** a kid!” John stood up, slapping the letter from Arthur’s hand and getting into his face.

Arthur pushed him back. “Sit down!”

John fell back onto the bed and scowled back up at Arthur looming over him. “You ain’t funny.”

Arthur picked the letters up off the floor, putting them back into the nightstand drawer, taking the small ring box he found shoved in the back and closed the drawer. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in comfortable silence, John cleaning his gun and Arthur sketching in his journal. As the sun set the temperature dropped and John slipped into the sweater, wrapping himself in the blanket from the cot, he soon drifted off to sleep.


End file.
